


Chess with Charlie

by grey2510



Series: Convos with Crowley [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Charlie and Crowley are each too smart for their own good, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, One Shot, Star Trek References, and Charlie is alive because I say so, because of course there are, crack as in there's no reason for these characters to meet, hand wavy canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: Charlie needs an amulet from Crowley, but Crowley never gives up anything without a deal.





	Chess with Charlie

“Were you expecting that if you simply asked politely, I would give you this priceless artifact out of, what, the goodness of my twisted demon soul?” Crowley picks up the tumbler of whiskey and takes a slow sip, contemplating the girl before him.

“Yes?” Charlie says with an apologetic shrug, but then wilts under Crowley’s dead stare. “Well, ok, not _exactly_ , but I’ve read the books and you’ve worked with Sam and Dean before—"

“When it served my purposes,” Crowley interrupts. “Don’t tell me Moose and Squirrel have sent you on this errand in hopes you’d be more likely to sway me with a pretty face and perky optimism. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard…" Charlie mutters.

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “I am quite curious how you think comments such as those will help your case.”

Charlie frowns, and her eyes flick quickly down at her hands, clasped on the table, before returning to look him straight on. “Sam and Dean don’t know you're here. This is for my own case.”

“Interesting,” he muses. “Well, Ms. Bradbury, unless you have something to offer in return, I hardly see how this endeavor benefits yours truly, or, consequently, why I should help at all.”

She crinkles her nose. “I’m not selling my soul. I’m definitely not kissing you, either. No offense, but you’re not my type.”

Crowley half-smiles. “That’s a shame. Everyone’s my type.” He pauses for another sip of whiskey before returning the glass to the table. “And no, I don’t think this requires a soul deal. But I can’t give you something for nothing. Bad for business, et cetera. I assume a bright girl such as yourself did not come wholly unprepared for this situation.”

There’s a smug smile on Charlie’s face and despite it all, Crowley finds himself intrigued by this wisp of a thing in front of him. No wonder the Winchesters keep her around: she could run circles around any of them. Well, perhaps present company excluded.

“Play you for it,” she says. “Winner takes all.”

What can he say? He does enjoy a challenge.

“Ah, well, as entertaining as those video games of yours seem to be,” he says, indicating the consoles behind him in her living room, “I believe you would have quite an advantage over me. But I’m sure we can find something more fair.”

“You’re a demon,” Charlie says, squinting her eyes in question.

“And we do have standards, my dear. What say you to an old classic: chess.”

She perks up immediately. "3D. I have my own set.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

While Charlie goes to a closet in the hallway and begins rooting around for the aforementioned chess set, Crowley takes the opportunity to get up and stretch his legs. Unfortunately, he can’t go far, given the summoning sigil placed inside a Devil’s Trap. He clears his throat.

“Such a civil meeting,” he comments, running a toe over the blacklight paint; it stays fast. “Seems incongruous to have one of us reduced to such circumstances.”

Charlie looks up from her rummaging. “I don’t trust you, Crowley.”

“Well, you’re much smarter than your flannel-loving pseudo-brothers, then.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Charlie says over her shoulder, elbows deep in a plastic bin.

He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I always thought that was my line.”

“Aha!” the girl declares, holding aloft the 3D chess tiers and a shoebox that rattles as she kicks the closet door closed behind her. “Alrighty, game on.”

They resume their seats at the table, Charlie standing up the board in between them. She’s about to open up the box, but Crowley holds up a hand.

“Before we begin: terms. You said winner takes all, and since souls are not on the table, there must be something for me to take if I win.”

Charlie bites her lip and glances around the apartment. “My _Harry Potter_ collectibles?” There’s a pleading look of reluctance in her eye.

“Tempting offer, but I’ll pass.” She visibly deflates with relief at his words. "However, there is something I want from you.”

“Right, because that _doesn’t_ sound like a deal with Devil at _all…_ Oh wait…"

“Please. Don’t compare me to that twat of an archangel. Besides, it’s nothing so nefarious as you are wont to believe.” He refills his tumbler, then gestures with the bottle at the girl’s own glass. She nods hesitantly, and he pours her a finger. They both drink for a moment, never losing eye contact, before he continues, “My terms are these: if you win, you get the amulet, we each go on our merry ways. If I win, I’ll still give you the amulet—"

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, why?”

“Those bastards you’re up against—nasty business in Prague ages ago.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Suffice to say, I certainly won’t shed a tear over their demise.”

“There’s a ‘but.’”

“Yes. The ‘but’ is, if I win, you work for me.”

Charlie nearly spits out her whiskey. Thankfully she doesn’t, both because it would be a terrible waste and he does not fancy ruining a perfectly good suit to sprayed backwash.

“ _I_ work for _you_?”

“You see,” he drawls, “minions are a rather miserable lot, extremely disloyal, and so some of my departments have had a...high turnover rate, shall we say. I need someone who understands the intricacies of both magic and technology.”

Her glass clinks to the table. “You want me to run Hell’s IT department?”

“One year employment. Flexible hours. Negotiable terms—even in regards to what projects you deem acceptable for that pesky human morality of yours. And it comes with benefits.”

She gives him a look. “Hell’s got a healthcare and 401(k) plan?”

“Typically, no,” he admits. “But I have contacts. Let’s just say that if selling one’s soul counted as a pre-existing medical condition, universal healthcare would be quite popular with many a CEO, CFO, and politician.”

“Makes sense,” she nods. But then she peers at him. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. We can go over the contract and fine-print in detail before you sign.” He grins. “Remember: we have standards.”

For a moment, she chews the inside of her cheek in thought, though it takes less time to reach a decision than he had anticipated.

“Deal.” And with that, she opens up the box and starts arranging little plastic figurines on the board. Crowley eyes them with interest, and she explains, “Buddy of mine has a 3D printer, so ya know, had to make my own chess set. They’re all _Star Trek_ characters.”

Crowley picks up one of several black and white figurines with a red shirt painted on. “Pawns?”

Charlie grins. “Yep.” She digs through the box, then pulls out two figurines, one in black and one in white. “Janeway’s the Queen, obviously.”

“Naturally,” Crowley agrees.

The pieces arranged, the game begins. Crowley makes the first move with white, having been told by the feisty redhead that she doesn’t care if he has “that whole king of evil thing going on", she always plays black and it’s her game, so she says so. He can’t remember the last time he played 3D chess, and he’d forgotten how much he enjoys a worthy opponent. They each move their pieces quickly and deftly. For a while, it’s nearly impossible to tell who has the advantage.

That is, until Charlie moves her Uhura Rook to the middle tier and Crowley realizes he’s utterly buggered. No matter what, he's cornered, whether he sacrifices his Sulu Knight, or moves his Dr. Crusher Bishop out of danger. Kirk will fall.

Her smile is wide.

“I believe you have me, Ms. Bradbury. Well played,” he concedes, nodding his head.

“Heck yeah, bitches!” She pretends to fist-bump her Janeway. “Booyah!”

“Now,” he says with a glance to the floor, “I suppose you should release me so I can go fetch your amulet.”

Grin still stretching from ear to ear, Charlie gets up and takes a pocket knife out. With a quick scratch at the paint, the Trap is released, and Crowley disappears. It’s a relatively quick jaunt to his storage unit in Greece, and when he returns—to a different corner of the apartment, away from the Trap, he finds the hunter already repainting the ward.

“Here you are, love. One Sumerian amulet, as promised.”

She takes the golden pendant and lets it dangle from its leather cord in front of her. “Sweet.”

“Pleasure doing business.” He’s about to snap his fingers and leave again when a thought occurs to him. “I do have a phone, you know. Number’s 666.”

“Classy, and totally not cliché,” Charlie teases.

Crowley ignores her. “I merely thought you might want that in case you wish to deal again. Summoning—so last century. And besides, I would not object to a rematch.” He raises his fingers, but she covers his hand with her own.

“Wait!” His only response is a questioning eyebrow, and so she tumbles out, “I don’t wanna be your employee, even if the boss from Hell jokes would so be worth it—"

“That’s unfair. I would be an exceptional boss. Quite reasonable, when I want to be, and with a competent and loyal employee.”   

"—but you gotta have resources from _everywhere_ to do some really bitchin’ stuff.”

“Your point?”

She shrugs. “Freelance consultant?”

He likes this Charlie Bradbury. He really does.

“I’ll be in touch, Red. Ciao.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> Check out my other works (sorted by series for easier navigation):  
> [Grey's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/series)  
> Come visit me on Tumblr! @[grey2510](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/)


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